


Losing My Religion

by IamHobbes



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: ..... for now, Alcoholism, Angst, Dysfunctional Relationships, Family Dynamics, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Past Relationships, Slow Build, alcohol mention, character background sorta fic i guess, cheating????, lots of inappropriate bible jokes, pre-game era, robert's wife is still alive, self destructive escapism lmao, some??? sex mentions but like w/e, sorry god, u h h h
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 15:51:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11763228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IamHobbes/pseuds/IamHobbes
Summary: trying to keep up with you—and i don't knowif i can do it.oh no, i've said too much;i haven't said enough.( alternatively: why joseph wears that sweater, mary flirts with strangers, and robert's wife is dead )





	Losing My Religion

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  yes u read that right i just used a 90s song reference as an angst pun & its a recurring framework yes im very on brand with this dad thing
> 
> ok well hello, so this is my way of coping with college exams stress & aka joseph is a fucking liar he has that sweater on his person for a reason like started and ended on the same day my ass ! ! but also. my complex problematic fav
> 
> this is me trying to figure out what went down between these two like untangling the backstory to before dadsona arrives. so it's not gonna be ,, how u say. Happy. also. this is an attempt at slow build but im not good at that so. we'll see how this turns out lmao (who am i kidding actually)
> 
> the general structure is? a few chapters (lol) exploring pre-married joseph/mary (which, btw, also a fav), a few on robert/marilyn's relationship as they move in maple bay, ofc robert/joseph, & some sprinkle of their respective family dynamics here & there. by structure i mean. whichever scenario i have the energy 2 write first
> 
> ok yay ! let's go angst

  
**(**       _the lengths that i will go to—  
                   the distance / in your eyes.       _ **)**

**___________________________________________________________________________________________________**

**  
** There are worse things to wake up to than the sea.

Of that, Robert was sure, though it wasn't like he was particularly fond of all that nautical bullshit; to him, there was fishing, and there was water. Boats were ugh. Sails, so-so. Pirates were overrated, their image tainted by countless bad movie franchises. Dolphins were a farce and sharks were misunderstood. Don't even get him started on Merfolk. Those whiny bastards.

                Robert rubbed his eyes. Come to think of it, he didn't like the sea very much at all.

It was just that, he supposed, of all places to wake up in _—_ he had woken up _here_ : this dimly lit cabin, warm almost to a fault, with only the gentle rocking beneath him to signify that he was, in fact, not land-ho.

                Robert yawned.

Despite his current location, he was decidedly not seasick, and he was happy enough to call it a day. Good sea, good ship. Bonus points for actually having a bed big enough to fit him. Not like _some_ ships. Robert scowled at the memory.

Okay, _maybe_ he was being dramatic. But still. The smell of dead fish haunts a man. And the sound of people vomiting spoiled oysters through thin walls at 3 a.m. never really leaves you. Compared to that vacation in the Pacific, this dark room was the _real_ fucking cruise. He could count the mornings on that boat where he would've _killed_ for this same soft shade of an early morning, or this warmth of someone's sleepy breath on his chest, resting right above his own lungs; the top of their head nestling, just beneath the base of his throat.

                Robert swallowed.

Honestly. That cruise sucked. It rained the whole week, and he was sure the boat was going to capsize, and he swore never to travel by sea again. Ever. Literally, it fucked him up. If he had learned anything from that trip, it was this: _Always. Expect. The worst_. And sure, that sounded paranoid as fuck, but what the hell. On any given day, you could wake up to a tidal wave. Or the apocalypse. Or badly written movie critiques. Or naked.

                Next to your town's goddamn Youth Minister.

                Post-coital.

Robert sighed as he shifted around, trying to get more comfortable under Joseph's weight. He watched as the thin bed sheet rose and fell to the rhythm of the younger man's breathing. His usually immaculate hair was ruffled in a way that was, actually? Pretty endearing. Asleep, Joseph's confident attitude faded into something more... normal. Tender. _Real_. With nothing propping up that _hey-neighbor_ smile, Joseph was just, well. Joseph.  

                Robert smirked. He hadn't expected this.

Of course, this wouldn't be the first time Robert's woken up in an unfamiliar place, with some not unfamiliar guy, both of them in a state of undress. He didn't really mind, though, it was pretty fucking humid inside this cabin. The stagnant air enveloped their bodies in the darkness. Robert squinted at the room. The door leading out was closed. So were all the... windows? Portholes?

                Portholes. Okay, sure. The curtains were drawn above them, blocking out the morning light from outside. Robert kicked the blanket off of them, feeling sticky with sweat. _God_ , he thought. It was hotter than Satan's asshole in here. They definitely hadn't thought this through.

                "Psst. Joe. Joseph," Robert murmured. "Hey. Time to resurrect."

As if in protest to his weak attempt at pseudo-blasphemy, Joseph snuggled up even closer, bringing his free arm around Robert, and holding onto him— a pretty tight grip for someone who wasn't even conscious enough to appreciate his eloquent bible humor.

The smooth part of Joseph's cheek brushed by the scar on Robert's chest, and his mouth, just slightly open, lay right where Robert could feel his heart pounding; he was mildly surprised that it wasn't skipping any beats. Joseph's face was barely visible, due to their current position (and not to mention the absence of light), but only an idiot wouldn't have noticed how at ease he seemed. How peaceful. Robert gave a small smile.   

                There are definitely worse things to wake up to.

                " _Christiansen_ ," he said in a louder voice. "Don't make me throw you overboard."

                 Joseph groaned, burying his face into Robert's chest. "Mmmphfmm."

Robert rolled his eyes. "Joseph," he said, nudging him away. "I _will_ do it. The last guy I was on a boat with, our crew threw him over, and he got eaten by a whale. Stayed there for forty days, forty nights. Poor Jonah."

                Joseph snorted, groggily. "Ugh. Stop making bible references, it's too early."

                Robert chuckled. "What? I thought sacrilege was your kink."

                Joseph begrudgingly opened his eyes and raised his head so that it hovered just a few inches away from Robert's. Their gazes locked.

                Robert smirked. "Good morning, sunshine."

                "Please shut up," Joseph said, pleasantly.

                 Robert laughed. "Make me."

Turns out, all he had to do was ask. In a move worthy of every tasteless (but, like, just bad _enough_ to watch for... irony purposes) Direct-to-Video RomCom, Joseph leaned in and pressed his lips onto Robert's in response, kissing him, slowly at first, then gradually increasing in force, slipping down the edge of his jaw. As his lips slid lower, Robert closed his eyes.

                "Too early my _ass_ ," he moaned into Joseph's ear.   

                The lips on skin suddenly halted and Robert felt Joseph wince. He re-opened his eyes.

                "You alright?"

                "Yeah, just. Ow. Too Loud. Hurts."

                "What's wrong?"

                Joseph sat up and rubbed his eyes. "I think I'm... Hungover."

                Robert snorted (quietly). "You _think_ you're hungover? What, is this your first beer, kid? No one ever explain to you how alcohol works?"

                Joseph gave a sheepish smile. "It's been awhile."

                "You're telling me," Robert said, sitting up as well. "Can't believe I'm the more sober one here."

                "Proud of you, buddy."

                "Don't call me that."

Joseph laughed. "Buddy," he repeated, placing a hand on Robert's waist. "Pal." His hip. "Brother." Ass. " _Comrade_." Inner thigh. He started stroking it with his fingers.

                " _Jesus_. You really don't quit, do you?"

                "Shush."

And just as Joseph's hand began running down Robert's leg, pulling it near his own, the sudden sound of Hillsong worship music blasting made them jump apart, in surprise. Caught off guard, they scrambled as far away as possible from each other; they rubbed at places they had just been teasing, instinctively, as if they'd just been stung.

 _YOU ARE GOD_ , it played. _YOU ARE LIGHT._  The song sounded muffled, but still seemed to ring out in an unholy volume.

 _I WILL WORSHIP YOU FOREVER_.

Joseph grimaced as he walked over, covered his ears, and started rummaging through the pile of clothes on the floor. By the third chorus, he had finally fished out his phone from the back of his pants pocket, regretting very much his choice of ringtone. He glanced at the caller ID.

                He sighed.  

Robert sat down again and watched him from the bed. He had to squint, but he could sort of make out his own clothes on the floor. His grey jeans and blue sweater. He couldn't see his boxers anywhere, but he wasn't sure if it was because he hadn't worn any, or just because it was so fucking dark in here. He briefly considered parting one of the curtains, because, y'know. They weren't goddamn _cavemen_. But as Joseph began pacing around the room in agitation, Robert decided against it, remembering his hangover and coming to the conclusion that Joseph would probably not appreciate the sunrise this morning. And that it would suck. Big time. No pun intended.

                From across the room, he heard Joseph sigh as he put the phone to his ear. "Mary?"

Despite the heat, Robert shivered. Yikes. Yeah, good thing the blinds were closed. In the morning flurry, he had completely forgotten: No one should see them here. Together. Naked.

                Right.

Robert exhaled. Hopefully no one had seen them come in, either, although he supposed no one would really be interested enough to wait for them to come out. With luck, most people would have assumed that they were just two guys, two best friends, pals hanging out, grabbing a drink or whatever bullshit excuses most straight people came up with. That's fine. _Good_ , _even_ , he thinks, trying to read the boat-steering-wheel shaped clock on the wall opposite to him.

                 6:16. Well, _fuck_.  

                "I'm sorry... I was— I was asleep. What? No, no," Joseph answered, evenly. "I'm _fine_ , Mary."

Robert spotted his own phone on the floor. He walked over and picked it up. Aside from the battery being dangerously low... nothing. There were no missed calls, no texts. He frowned, slightly.

                "I camped out on the old yacht. Yes. No... I'm alone. What's that? No, don't exert yourself, you can't leave the kids by themselves. No, don't wake them. I'm coming. Yes. Twenty minutes, tops."

                Joseph paused. Robert recognized the hesitation that came with it.

                "... Love you too, Mary."

When the call ended, Joseph checked his messages. There were many, _many_ texts from hours ago. Most were variations of ' _joseph i swear to god where are you_ '. He did the math. Mary had started texting him just a little after he had started drinking. Joseph made a face. His head started to pound. He pressed his fingers to his temple and massaged it. 

                "Joseph...?"

"She was worried." Joseph shrugged, voice flat. All the playfulness in his voice earlier had vanished. "She was just about to go looking, call the police and whatnot... I told her I'd meet her at home. Best not cause a scene."

                Robert's eyes widened in sudden alarm. "Couldn't she come here? Now?"

Joseph shook his head. "I doubt it. It's too early to leave the kids with anyone else, and Mary doesn't exactly relish in the idea of interacting with the neighborhood moms either, so... Plus walking long distances is still pretty rough for her, considering she just gave birth."

Robert grunted. "... I guess." He didn't know what to say. He couldn't read Joseph's expression. All of a sudden, he just seemed very tired.

               "So... we're safe?"

                Joseph turned away, clearly wanting to change the subject. "What about Marilyn?"  
                Robert's voice tightened. "What _about_ her?"

Joseph looked back at him, an eyebrow raised. "Nothing, I just meant..." His voice softened. He walked over to Robert's side. "She didn't call?"

                Robert shrugged, cocking his head towards the phone in his hand. "Probably still asleep."

Probably too used to it, more likely. Still mad at him. Too worn-out to worry, anymore. Or care. He frowned. Now that he was fully awake, Robert found that last night was still fresh in his mind. _Look at me!_ Marilyn had yelled, shoving a bottle off their counter. It shattered as it landed on the floor, splashing whiskey on the carpet. There were tears in her eyes. _Are you even trying?_

Robert scowled. He wanted to hit himself. _God_ , he was such an _ass_. Marilyn was a goddamn saint and martyr, putting up with his baggage all of the time. A not-screwed-up person would be grateful and try their best to be good in return. Instead, here _he_ was, fucking the town pastor on a fucking private yacht, feeling sorry for himself that she hadn't called.

                _You're fucking welcome, Marilyn_. Robert grit his teeth.

For someone who had just cheated on his wife, you'd think he'd feel more... remorse. Or something. Not _this_. For some reason, he couldn't process what he'd just done. The image of Joseph's fingers at his thighs didn't seem to connect with Marilyn's angry order for him to sleep on the couch last night and reflect... and yet. It also made a shitload of sense. Right? At least, to Robert, anyway. Or maybe it was because he was full of shit in the first place.

 _Don't you get tired of running away from your problems?_ she had asked him. Then Robert thought of the weight of Joseph's body on top of his. He felt sick. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just feel sorry? That's what he assumed how normal functioning people would feel after stabbing their fucking life partner in the back! Ha.

                Shit.      

He stared at the clothes on the floor. The way his pants had twisted looked as if it were a snake ready bite him. Robert would gladly welcome death. He clenched his jaw. Why was this only sinking in _now?_ After? Why was he such an idiot?

First, he was a lousy son, then a deadbeat spouse, then an alcoholic, and now, to top it all off, he was a cheater. Fucking great. Once more, with feeling. Another point for Robert Small, husband of the goddamn year.

                "Robert?"

He suddenly noticed just how dry his mouth was. And how his eyes began to sting. He looked up at Joseph, saw his worried face, and looked down at his bare feet. Bare everything. Robert tried to swallow. He blinked, rapidly. Was this guilt? Was this what Joseph was feeling as well? Did he also realize that they were fucking horrible people? If so, why did it feel so... numb? No. Wrong?

                Robert shook his head. No. Definitely not... wrong.

                _Christ_. 

                "She's not a morning person."

                 He had said it as nonchalantly as he could, but Joseph wasn't buying it.

                "Robert."

                " _What?_ " he snapped.

                "I'm sorry."

                "Hey, it's not your fault Marilyn sleeps like a bear in winter."

                "I meant... sorry for... this."

                Robert didn't answer.

Joseph chose his words carefully. "Don't worry. Marilyn won't know. Mary won't know. No one. No one will know. I promise. It's okay. I'm sorry, I... shouldn't have... asked you for this."

                Robert's eyes flashed dangerously. "So you... think this was a mistake."

_So you think this was wrong._

                Joseph's eyes widened. "No, I— no, god, no. Robert, I meant— "

                "Because that's fucking peachy, I can just _go_ — "  
                   
                "Robert, _please_. You know that's not what I meant."

                 Robert glared. "What _do_ you mean, then."

Joseph looked down at his hands. "You're my friend. Best friend, before anything else. It's not your job to... _this_. I shouldn't have... for lack of a better word, _tempted_ you... I mean," he shifted his feet, uncomfortable. He could feel the beads of sweat forming on his back.

                "It's not that I didn't _want to_ — of _course_ I... It's just— We're both married. My relationship with Mary is one thing. I didn't mean to... get in the way... of you and Marilyn."

                Robert barked out a laugh. Nice save. "Trust me, you're the least of our problems."

Joseph gave a small smile, but his eyebrows were still furrowed. Robert could feel the sweat trailing down his own spine. At least Joseph w _as_ the least of their problems. He'd definitely be at the forefront _now_ , Robert thought. At least on his end. God, he wanted to bury himself alive.

                _It's not that I didn't want to_ —  _Of course I...it's just_ — 

Robert exhaled. He had to learn to get a fucking grip on his emotions. He, of all people, had no right to be mad at Joseph. He, of all people, had no right to be feeling. Things. Robert felt the shame course through him.

                _God_ , Marilyn. Why did she put up with him?

                "But... I guess. Yeah," Robert sighed. "This should be. Not public knowledge."

                Joseph nodded. "I promise."

                "But also. Don't say _sorry_ to me."

                 Joseph raised an eyebrow. "...Okay, I promise that too."

 Robert looked up at him. "Look. I mean. You were only chasing after... what made you happy. For once. Right? Nothing wrong with that... With wanting. In the moment. Right?"

What the fuck was he saying? What kind of screwed up confession was this? Robert watched Joseph's expression as he digested what he had said. Robert was trash. Joseph probably knew that already. What was the point in asking Joseph to confirm it? Having it spelled out in his face: Congrats, Small, you're going to hell when you die. Robert bit the inside of his cheek.

 _Come on, Joseph_. Tell him something he didn't know.

 Joseph was silent, thinking. _Chasing after what made you happy_ , he had said. _Not that I didn't want to_ , Joseph has said. Robert's head was spinning. If they were happy... with each other...

Joseph sat down next to him, pressing his shoulder unto his. As their bare skin came into contact, Robert thought he was going insane. He didn't know what to think, or what to feel. All Robert felt was the warmth he shared with Joseph right now. In this moment.

                All Robert could think was: _Please_.

_Please don't be sorry._

                Leaning unto him, Joseph murmured. "Isn't that a bit selfish?"

                Robert winced. His stomach sank.  
                 
                "Yeah, I know— "

                 Joseph laughed, lightly. "Hey. It's fine."  
   
                Robert stared at him.  
  
                "I mean... Sometimes, you can't help being a little selfish. It's human. _You're_ human."

                Robert felt his chest swell. "Don't pastor talk me."

                "Hey. God helps those who help themselves."

Excuses, excuses. They were terrible. Normal, well-adjusted humans didn't go cheating on their spouses and laughing about it. Robert was afraid of the pounding in his chest. It felt too much like hope.

                Joseph smiled, softly. "Did this make you happy?"

                "I—  " Robert whispered. He looked down, at his hands. "... Yeah."

               "I'm glad."

                Joseph stroked his back; mused his hair. Robert couldn't look at him. He didn't have to.  
  
                "It's not a sin to want what you can't have, you know."

                "Yeah, well you just _slept_ with what you can't have, Joe."

                "Mmmhm?" Joseph breathed, low into Robert's ear. His neck. Robert could feel his free hand inching up his  bare thighs again, and the other hand tracing his back. He turned to look at him. There was a glint in Joseph's eye. Like from earlier. Christ. Joseph was fucking _crazy_.   

                "You're fucking crazy."

                He pressed a kiss down Robert's collar. Robert stifled a moan.

                "Joseph," he said, pointedly. "Your _wife_."

 Joseph lifted his head back up, a grin playing on his lips. There was no blush. "Right, right. Sorry, my bad. I just figured... what you said..."

                Robert shoved him off the bed. Some things best remained unspoken. "Get going or Mary's gonna have to do a Veronica and wipe your blood off the floor with her skirt."

                "Wait, what?"

                "What kind of minister are you? Learn your fucking verses! Get going!"

Joseph laughed as he picked up his boxers, his shirt. Robert essentially did the same, taking his jeans, then his sweater. He shrugged them on, although not as neatly as Joseph did. Whatever. It was on brand anyway. He watched as Joseph's anchor tattoo disappeared under his pink sleeve. Joseph caught him looking and winked.

                "Yes?"

                "Shut up."

                 Joseph hummed. "To be continued?"

Robert swallowed, looking away. The word _selfish_ rang in his ears. He thought of Marilyn. _Don't you get tired of running away from your problems?_

"Hurry _up_ ," he said, instead.

Joseph went first, sticking his head out to see if anyone was watching. When the coast was clear, he gestured for Robert to follow. Good thing they never left the fucking dock. They made their way down the yacht and into the street.

                "Probably better if we split up here, so no one's the wiser," Robert said, nodding as they reached an intersection. "Lead them off the scent, confuse the trail. You know. Fend off the hounds."

                Joseph stared at him, amused.

                "Just take the shortcut. Mary won't be happy if you're late."

                 Joseph squeezed Robert's shoulder. " _Thank you_."  
                 
                Robert smirked. "Yeah, well. You owe me, Christiansen."

                "I'll buy you dinner next time,"  Joseph laughed as he jogged off. He didn't look back.

 _Next time_ , thought Robert. He shook his head and began walking the other way, slowly. Heavily. He was dragging his feet, feeling like he had just aged twenty years. Damn. He tried for a stretch. Ow. Bad idea. He pulled something in his shoulder. _Ow_. It was throbbing in the place where Joseph had slept on him, his breath tickling the hairs at the top of his chest. He pictured Joseph's smile as he kissed him; he pictured Joseph's fingers against his thighs.

                His cellphone beeped, suddenly. In succession.  
  
              **[Text: marilyn <3]** hey.  
             **[Text: marilyn <3]** where r u?  
             **[Text: marilyn <3]** abt last night  
                **[Text: marilyn <3]** i hope u cleared ur head  
   **[Text: marilyn <3]** we need 2 talk  
             **[Text: marilyn <3]**  
**[Text: marilyn <3]**  
**[Text: marilyn <3]** im sorry for shouting

Robert felt like he was just slapped across the face. Of course Marilyn would apologize for something that wasn't even her fault. Why she stayed with him, Robert had no clue. Who was he kidding? She was too good for him. Always has been.

Even when he made life a living hell for her, she stuck by him. Robert slapped himself.  _Get it together, Small._

              **[Text, reply: to marilyn <3]** main st. buying breakfast. want?  
               **[Text, reply: to marilyn <3]** im sorry 2  
                **[Text, reply: to marilyn <3]** 4 everything

                Robert waited for her reply. He held his breath.  
  
               **[Text: marilyn <3]** yes  2 breakfast  
                **[Text: marilyn <3]** thanks  
               **[Text: marilyn <3]** love u. see u.

Robert walked up to the nearest open cafe and ordered some coffee and muffins to-go. The minutes ticked by. He stared intently at his phone.

 **[Text, draft: to marilyn <3]** love u too  
**[Text, draft: to marilyn <3]** im coming home  
**[Text, draft: to marilyn <3]** marilyn i fucked upjdspehrjd  
**[Text, draft: to marilyn <3]**  :((((((((  
**[Text, draft: to marilyn <3]** i lov u

                Robert sighed as he pressed send. God, he was such an ass.

              **[Text: marilyn <3]** c u 2

He knew he'd have to make a good explanation for where he was last night. Marilyn saw right through his stories, no sweat. If he made one, he'd have to give it some thought. If he told the truth... He mulled it over as he waited for their breakfast; by the time the food arrived, he was repeating how he planned to explain himself. He kept a straight face as he walked to back home.

Robert was decided. She _couldn't_ know. He couldn't bear to see the look on her face if she found out. His story needed to be foolproof.

As he reached the cul-de-sac, he headed straight for his own house, avoiding any possible interactions with the other neighbors. Sure, the dads were his friends. But Robert wasn't really looking forward to a dramatic-retelling. He walked with his head down, the breakfast close to his chest.

The most he allowed himself was to steal a glance as he passed by the Christiansen house. He saw, very briefly, Joseph's youngest daughter sitting on the curb. Her back was turned to him, her attention focused on the attraction by their doorstep. Robert followed her line of sight and blinked.

There was Joseph, just as he'd last seen him, holding a newborn baby in his arms. He was rocking him, gently; singing a lullaby, pretending his baby was boat at sea. Robert turned away.

He picked up his pace and mentally reviewed the story he'd just finished. He was practically running by the time he arrived at his front lawn, making a beeline for the door. Breathe, he reminded himself. Keep cool. He couldn't let his mind wander; couldn't betray any thoughts. He knocked on the door.

                "Robert?" A voice from inside called. "Is that you?"  
                "Yeah," he answered. "Left my keys."

Robert felt a sweat trickle down his forehead. He hastily wiped it off. He reminded himself that this was the right thing to do: salvaging his marriage. He reminded himself that Marilyn came first before anyone else. That Marilyn was _his_ _wife_. That he loved _her_. Not Joseph.

                Or his fingers. Or his smile.

Robert shook himself out of it as he heard the jangle of keys from the other side of the door. _Concentrate_ , he told himself, as the door creaked open, just before his wife's face appeared in front of him. _Marilyn_ , he repeated in his mind. _Marilyn._ _Marilyn._

But in the quarter of a second it took for her to fully open the door, Robert let his guard down on the fifth of it. A rogue thought sneaked into Robert's internal monologue, burying itself into the back of his mind:

                Joseph on the front porch, with his baby. Joseph singing a lullaby. The sound of Joseph's voice in his ear going: _It's fine._

_It's not that I didn't want—_

_To be continued?_

_  
               _ Robert sighed.

                The door opened wide.


End file.
